


Nameless (not me)

by 2jamie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Fae & Fairies, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2jamie/pseuds/2jamie
Summary: "The fae of Lettenhove forests had a legend about the most powerful fae. A legend that said they would be born with a powerful name, and yet without one at the same time."The story of Jaskier, names, and finding love.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 212





	Nameless (not me)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome. Fair warning, I haven't written anything in years, so this will be rusty. The story is unbeta'd - please excuse the mistakes (and there are bound to be many, I always get my tenses mixed up, if nothing else). 
> 
> This is definitely based on the Netflix series (with minor changes), as I don't really know the games or the books, other than what you get through osmosis by living in the culture in which this characters were created.
> 
> Also, I have never seen a take on fae that framed the power of the name in this way, but if you did, please let me know? I'd be very interested to see how others handled it.
> 
> And finally, this story would not be completed without the background soundtrack of Kwiat Jabłoni. Please, search for their two albums either on YouTube or on Spotify to play in the background whilst reading this? One particular song will be linked in the story itself, I hope it will work.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this little offering.

The fae of Lettenhove forests had a legend about the most powerful fae. A legend that said they would be born with a powerful name, and yet without one at the same time.

The fae of the Lettenhove forests also had a belief, like all fae, that names held power and importance. Thus no fae dared not to name their children, however tempting it might be.

None, that is, except for one. Aemilia researched the legend more than anyone else. Not that there was much research to achieve. As old as the fae were, the legend was even older. And the only elder who might have known more about the truth behind the legend would not share. They had enchanted themselves long ago, to no longer be able to speak until the fae of the legend came to be.

And so, Aemilia plotted based on the handful of information she possessed.

She has found a human lover to conceive the child. She observed the lord of the nearby land, and deemed him good enough. If her child turned out to be the most powerful fae, then they needed the proper lineage. If not, then she could just push them into the human world and be done with them.

And so, a child of Aemilia and Alfred Pankratz came into the world. And Alfred Pankratz knew nothing about it. And Aemilia did not name the child.

And the fae elder remained silent.

Aemilia was not pleased with that. But she did not lose hope yet. The enchantment said “came to be,” not “was born.” Words were important, Aemilia knew. So she raised her nameless child. She was not kind in this, but neither was she harsh. For the first few years at least.

As the child grew up, he showed no signs of magic. Not even a lick. No accidental burst that all fae children are prone to. No stray flowers spurting from under his feet.

And when the child was presented to the elders to determine who his teacher should be, they confirmed what Aemilia had already suspected.

“He has no magic. Not an ounce to be found inside him.”

And with that simple pronouncement, Aemilia’s neutrality towards her child ended. Where previously there was no kindness, now there was open hostility. If the nameless child was not to be the fae of the legend, then he would be no child of Aemilia.

And an unwanted fae couldn’t flourish, no matter how much they would try.

* * *

Jaskier knew he was different than the other fae from a very young age. The others could weave flowers from thin air, for one thing. Unlike other fae children, Jaskier could lie, for the other. The other children had loving parents...

And they has actual names, if any other trait didn’t single Jaskier out. Not that there was anything wrong with the name “Jaskier,” even if he said so himself. There were plenty of fae named after flowers. His only friend was called Daisy, after all. But she was given this name. Unlike him. Unlike the nameless child who one day, with tears in his eyes shouted that his name is Jaskier, clutching said flower in his hand. A nameless child who named himself. Because he was unlovable . Because he was a burden. Because he was a failure. Because he was meant to be the greatest, and yet turned out less than nothing.

So Jaskier knew he was different. But it still hurt when his mother calmly took him to the nearby human court, and left him with the human lord she called his father, and left. Without even sparing a glance at Jaskier.

At least the human lord was kind to him. That was a novel experience for Jaskier.

Lord Pankratz already had a human family of his own, a wife, a son, and two daughters. But they took Jaskier in. He wouldn’t become the lord of the land, despite being certainly older than the son, but that was alright. Jaskier would have made a terrible lord.

Still, he was given the title of the viscount. And, more importantly for Jaskier, a name. A human name, and a mouthful, and almost like a family heirloom, but still an actual, proper name. Accepting him into the family. Julian Alfred Pankratz. He nearly sobbed when they have given him that.

(What he none of the family could have noticed was a small buttercup timidly poking from the ground next to the front gate of the estate.)

And so Jaskier spent a few years at the Lettenhove estate, learning about living amongst humans, how to not be too different from them. Learning what it was like to be loved. Discovering new things: food, drink, books, history, music...

It was the last one he liked most. Suddenly, his lack of magic didn’t matter. His had a touch for music instead. Learned it with little difficulty excelling at any instrument he wished. His stepmother encouraged him to sing along with the instruments. And Jaskier never wished to stop once he learnt of singing.

He never once went into the Lettenhove forests. Never once searched for his mother again. Never contacted another fae, not even Daisy. He had everything he needed in the human world, why would he go where he was never wanted?

After a few years, Jaskier timidly asked if he could go to Oxenfurt to study arts more. And was still pleasantly surprised when he heard that of course he could.

* * *

Life in Oxenfurt was different than Lettenhove, both the estate and the forests.

Jaskier learnt about music. He learnt about composition. He learnt about geometry, about rhetoric, about astronomy. He studied anything the university let him, and before he even noticed, he graduated, summa cum laude.

During his years of studies, he also learnt more about humans. He had made both friends and enemies. Learnt how sometimes one could turn into the other, and never to judge which one the person will become upon meeting them. He also learnt about how cruel humans could be to others and one another. Though that did not surprise him as much. He has grown up with lack of kindness. If fae could behave like that, why wouldn’t the humans be the same? But Jaskier decided to always look for the best in people.

He also tried to research more about his origins, but he discovevred there wasn’t much known about the fae. What little information there was, wasn’t even correct most of the time, so had given up on that rather quickly.

Once he graduated, Jaskier stayed on at the university for a few years, researching some more, and teaching bright young students. But in the end, he decided to see some more of the world.

And thus, Jaskier the travelling bard came to be.

* * *

Apparently, the life of a travelling bard was not easy, as Jaskier has learnt.

His welcome varied, from minor enthusiasm to indefference to outright hostility. Again, nothing he had not experienced in life before. Though the negative reactions still hurt...

It was during one of those less than warm welcomes that he met Geralt. And as with every new thing in his life, Jaskier wanted to learn more. And so he approached the witcher sitting in the dark corner of a tavern in Posada.

And the rest is history...

* * *

In Jaskier’s defence, he didn’t even consider that he should have told Geralt of his heritage.

He was born of a fae, yes, but the only difference between him and a full human was his slowed aging. Possibly, no aging at all. He wasn’t sure himself. That and his good health.

So he was honestly surprised when he got sick in his second year of travelling with Geralt.

They were in the middle of a forest, no healer in miles. And Jaskier had a fever, for the first time in his life. He was sneezing and coughing. His muscles ached. He was completely miserable.

At least he had Geralt taking care of him. Or trying to poison him, Jaskier wasn’t sure, when Geralt presented him with a foul smelling bowl.

“What is this?” he asked squinting at the bowl.

“Heavily diluted White Honey,” Geralt said forcing the bowl closer to Jaskier’s mouth. “With your fae blood, it should help with your fever.”

Jaskier startled at that.

“You... You know about... About my...” he stuttered.

Geralt looked up at him surprised.

“Of course,” he said slowly. “I know we don’t talk about what you are, but I thought that was because it doesn’t matter, not because you were hiding it,” he trailed off.

“No!” Jaskier hastened to reassure Geralt. “No, I’m not hiding it, it’s just...”

And Jaskier realised he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. It hit him that other than his family in Lettenhove, he never talked about who he was. About what he was. That he wasn’t human.

“I’m not hiding it. I just never...” he tried to explain, but words eluded him.

“It’s okay, Jaskier,” Geralt said softly, his hand going to Jaskier’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to.” Jaskier looked closely at Geralt. “I... I want to,” he whispered realising it was the truth.

Geralt smiled softly.

“Okay. But not now.” He motioned to the bowl, which laid forgotten in the bard’s hands. “Get better first, then we can talk about it. Once you have a clear head.”

Jaskier nodded, and took a sip. And immediately made a face at the taste, making Geralt chuckle.

“It’s not that bad,” the witcher said, “trust me.”

“Does it come in a different flavour?”

“Drink your medicine, Jaskier.”

* * *

It was two more days before Jaskier felt like himself again. And on that evening, Jaskier told Geralt the story of the nameless fae child – his story.

He told him of the cold childhood. Of being a disappointment. A failure. A burden. That there was not a lick of magic inside him.

Jaskier told of his family in Lettenhove. How he learnt what it was like to be loved. To be cared about.

Geralt sat next to the bard, and listened for the few hours it took Jaskier to get the whole story out. And when Jaskier found it hard to continue, with tears in his eyes, the witcher pulled the fae closer for a hug, letting him find comfort in the embrace.

(And unnoticed by either man, a small dandelion bloomed near Jaskier’s hand.)

* * *

There was a banquet at Cintra.

Jaskier performed.

Geralt saved someone. And with tied hands asked for the only payment possible.

Of course destiny liked to laugh…

Jaskier wondered at the other people present and their hostility towards the witcher asking for the law of surprise. What else could Geralt have asked for? Gold? That was not why he had helped Duny. A favour? Nobody liked to enter new life with an unpaid debt. No, the only sensible answer to the saved knight’s protestations was to ask for the damned law of surprise.

Jaskier only wished he could have made others realise this was not simply Geralt being thoughtless, asking for the first best thing. He wished he could tell Geralt he understood the _why_ and the _how_. But his witcher preferred to avoid the subject.

And so, life went on.

* * *

Life led them to a frantic witcher searching for a djinn.

Life led them to wishes uttered carelessly.

Life led them to Jaskier choking on his blood. And grasping for Geralt, always for Geralt…

What a silly moment to realise you were in love.

But here they were, with Jaskier dying, and Geralt bargaining with a mage to save the bard’s life.

But here they were, with Geralt sleeping with Yennefer, and with Jaskier’s heart breaking…

* * *

“We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.”

Jaskier was not above begging, as he was quickly finding out.

“Or Lettenhove. You could meet Mikołaj, Anna and Ela…”

Jaskier was not above begging, but even that would not have been enough.

* * *

Mikołaj was a wonderful new lord of Lettenhove, just as Jaskier always knew he would be. Anna was away with her husband. Ela was mostly helping in town.

Jaskier was mostly strumming his lute somewhere on the grounds, trying not to think about Geralt… Not that it worked, but he tried.

(What Jaskier didn’t know was that Geralt was thinking about him. Finding his Child Surprise, and thinking of Jaskier, where to find him, and how to begin apologising.)

It was Ela who brought the news of people disappearing near the woods. The Lettenhove forests. All siblings knew it must be the fae living there, though not for what reason.

“Post a notice for a witcher,” Jaskier told Mikołaj.

“Are you sure?” his brother asked.

“Who else can handle that?”

“No, I mean…” Mikołaj hestitated. “Will you be all right, if it’s… If the White Wolf shows up?”

Jaskier looked at his brother. He hadn’t even thought it would be Geralt who replied. He shook his head. “He won’t. And even if, this is more important than me.”

Mikołaj looked at him for a moment longer before nodding.

And so they waited.

* * *

Jaskier was singing [softly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PyfhCQfAjM0) when news came that a body had been found a few days later.

“Right,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing left to lose…”

And thus, for the first time in years, Jaskier stepped foot in the Lettenhove forest.

Of course he found Aemilia. Of course it had to be her. Jaskier would like to have said he was surprised. He wasn’t.

“The nameless failure,” she sneered at him.

“Stop,” Jaskier said, his voice a little weak. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Stop whatever it is you’re doing. Please, mother…”

“I am Aemilia of the Lettenhove court,” she hissed, “and you will address me as such!”

Jaskier fell to his knees as air was knocked out of him by Aemilia’s magic.

“You are not my son,” she continued. “You are nothing. A disappointment. A failure. A burden. _Nameless_.”

Tears sprung into Jaskier’s eyes.

“Please,” he managed.

“Silence!” Another wave of pain hit Jaskier.

“Jaskier!”

Both fae turned in the direction of the new voice.

Geralt stood at the edge of the clearing, looking a bit worse for wear, but still as beautiful as Jaskier remembered. New tears appeared, independently of the pain.

“Who are you?” Aemilia’s voice sounded bored before she sent another wave of pain towards Jaskier.

The witcher knelt next to the kneeling bard, taking his head in his hands and ignoring Aemilia.

“Jaskier,” he whispered.

“You need to leave,” Jaskier managed between gasps. “Please.”

“No,” Geralt’s voice was firm. “Not without you.” He cast a quick sign just before Aemilia could respond with another wave of her magic. “I’m sorry,” he continued as he held the shield over them. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’re not a burden. You’re the blessing in my life.”

Jaskier looked into Geralt’s eyes. They seemed sincere.

“Blessing? Him?” Aemilia cackled behind them. “He’s nameless! He’s nothing!” Geralt’s shield broke and they both felt the viciousness of the next attack. “He was meant to be the greatest amongst us. The best. Instead he’s this,” she motioned to Jaskier’s curled sobbing form, “not even a proper fae.”

Geralt spared a glance at the woman, his look full of contempt, before focusing back on Jaskier.

“You’re not nameless, Jaskier,” he whispered. “You chose yourself a name, remember?” Geralt tried to get Jaskier to focus on him, rather than on the next attack that would surely come any second now. “Jaskier, bright and sunny, you chose yourself.

“You have a family who gave you a name,” Geralt continued despite the pain, now directed only at him. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, remember?”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt through tear-stained eyes. At Geralt who tried to remind him about who he was, despite the pain.

“My little Dandelion,” Geralt smiled at Jaskier, and quickly threw a dagger at Aemilia.

Jaskier looked at Geralt who loved him enough to give him a name. Jaskier’s very own name. And he felt something fill him up.

Through a haze Jaskier heard Aemila’s angry shouts as the dagger hit her just above the heart.

What he did register was Aemilia throwing Geralt against a tree. And Geralt falling. And not moving. Jaskier blood boiled.

“And now,” panting the older fae turned to Jaskier. “Your turn, nameless.”

The something inside Jaskier growled, and continued to grow until it spilled out. He didn’t notice the trees around them suddenly catching fire. Nor the rain falling just on the clearing they were in. What he noticed was his own rage at the spot of blood pooling next to Geralt.

Suddenly very calm, Jaskier stood up on surprisingly steady legs. He turned to Aemilia, and looked her straight in the eyes for the first time in years.

“I,” he began lowly, “have a name. I gave myself a name. My family gave me a name. My love gave me a name. I. HAVE. A. NAME!” The force of his voice threw Aemilia back. He advanced.

“What…” Aemilia blinked up at him. “Impossible…”

“I am not nothing!” Jaskier continued. The fire around them seemed to be moving until it was surrounding only the two fae. “I am stronger than you thought, and I am not a burden!” Jaskier stopped suddenly just in front of the other fae. “You no longer define me, Aemilia of the Lettenhove court. I define myself.”

With that Jaskier headed back to check up on Geralt. Behind him, the fire closed trapping Aemilia inside it.

(Back in Lettenhove court, the elder smiled, and whispered “Finally.”)


End file.
